Reversal of Night
by Tos-Lover1
Summary: Brass and Cath take a trip to Napa for the BrassLove summer vacation ficathon.


A/N: Brass and Catherine go to Napa. Written for the Summer Vacation ficathon at BrassLove. Not mine.

Reversal of Night

_The Break room. Las Vegas Crime Lab. Deep into the graveyard shift. The detective, tie and collar loose, jacket lost, sits on the arm of a chair. His right leg is crossed over his left. His right elbow balances on the thigh of his right leg while his right hand supports his chin and his index finger lies across his lips. Across from him is a strawberry blonde. He is staring at her from beneath eyebrows that are raised in surprise._

"It's easy, Jim. You just say _yes_."

"No."

_The middle of the night, a few weeks later._ _Churchill Manor Bed & Breakfast. Room 5._

Sleep came in fits and bursts. The years spent working through the night made traditional sleep almost impossible for Jim Brass. If he had to sit down and analyze why, and at the moment he had plenty of time to do just that, it would be because of the stillness. He was used to sleeping with the noises of everyone else's day. Shouting kids, slamming doors, tires spinning against asphalt. Give him what he had here—open-windowed pitch quiet—and sleep was lost.

Grunting lightly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position against the cool headboard. Next to him, Catherine stirred. He looked at her. Clever and sharp and bright Catherine Willows, a woman who knew exactly how to use her attributes. He could testify to it. She had roped him into this weekend using them all. A friendly weekend away, she had tried to sell him; they could even go Dutch and share a room. She had even had the nerve to check his into his uncommonly light workload and was well aware he hadn't taken any time off since he'd been shot. The deck was stacked, so when he had offered up a heavy workload and lack of vacation time as excuses not to join her for a weekend in the Napa Valley, she had rebutted all of them. Convincingly and in a way that had dared him to say no. But now, with the weekend almost over, he had to admit she was right. He had needed the break.

Sara's abduction and subsequent fraught rescue had left the lab in a strange state of limbo. The intensity of the hours she was missing; the interrogations of the psycho, Natalie; the emotional waves Gil had given off that even Jim had felt. All of it had everyone wound tighter than an 18-gauge spool. On top of that there was the chase into the desert to find her that everyone took part in. And the hours waiting at Desert Palm had renewed his appreciation for what his friends went through a year ago for him. But Sara was okay. Gil was okay. They were okay. The scenes of joy that saw everyone from Ecklie to the Undersheriff hugging, kissing and pounding each other on the back had left their imprint on even his hard shell.

So it had been natural to think that things would settle down and begin to get back to normal. Only they hadn't. Within a day almost the entire team had become irritable, humorless and short-tempered. His time on the force had taught him not to play amateur therapist, but he had thought—still did if truth were told—that everyone's stratospheric emotions had needed a bigger outlet than the one they got. Catherine Willows apparently, had agreed with him and to his surprise the person she was most concerned about? _Him_.

He threw back the covers, got up and padded barefoot to the window. There was, she had told him that night in the break room, a perfect little bed and breakfast that backed onto acres upon acres of mature vine. And roped into the weekend or not, Jim acknowledged she hadn't been kidding. They were off the Silverado Trail, away from the lights of the main city and the touristy wineries. The sky was dark save for the sliver of moon and a couple of constellations. A warm breeze rustled through the vines and Jim caught the whiff of earth and grapes.

The now-empty bottle of wine they had shared earlier sat on the small, round table next to him. He picked it up and took a closer look at the label._ Appealing. Distinctive. Balanced. Depth._ Those words and many others like them had been thrown around with unprecedented ease the previous day by wine-pourers with steady hands and the gift of the gab. And knowing Catherine was little more than arms reach away, the parallel in the words wasn't lost on him.

If there was one thing he had learned from Gil and Sara it was that sometimes a risk was a surer bet than the safety of life unchallenged. Ultimately that lesson, almost as much as having his arm twisted, had made him say yes to this weekend away. He leaned into the window frame and stared unseeingly at the jostling vines. He had been alone for the majority of his adult life, including most of his marriage. And now Christmas, Thanksgiving and most holidays were just like every other day lost in the daily routine and vagaries of Vegas crime. Although he didn't mourn their loss, he knew he would welcome them back into his life.

A figure quietly drew up beside him, "Weight of the world on your shoulders?"

He didn't argue when her fingers slipped through his, "Seems like it."

Her gaze followed his past the vines and to the hills beyond, "So, are you glad you came?"

He turned to her, "Yes."

Catherine studied him for a long moment, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

_Deep into the night between Saturday and Sunday. The detective finally takes a leaf out of his professional book and trusts his instincts. He slips his left arm around the slender waist of the strawberry blonde. He tightens his grip on her silky nightshirt, gently pulls her close, and kisses her._


End file.
